Not the alien invasion movie

Yesterday was Independence Day. I worked for most of the day (serving French food to European tourists) and didn't really have any plans to celebrate. Nonetheless, my girlfriend and I ended up sitting on our roof, which offers a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline from the right angle. We drank prosecco and watched the municipal fireworks display, which actually took place on the opposite side of the island from us. It looked like the explosions were going off among the high-rises.

Drink makes me even more prone to rumination than usual, and my thoughts took a predictable turn towards my country and what exactly I was celebrating.

A few years back, I would have described myself as a patriot. In modern usage, a patriot is someone who loves his country. I no longer call myself a patriot because I don't love the United States in the sense that so many of my countrymen mean when they use the word. 

A wounded Iraq War veteran standing at attention for the national anthem.

This country is great in the sense that it's very large and very influential. It has, as a political and economic entity, done some wonderful things on a vast scale. It has also done some appalling things on an equally vast scale. It is politically fashionable these days to whitewash the behavior of this country and its occupants in the name of 'American exceptionalism.' I find this practice dishonest, distasteful and somewhat dangerous. It's impossible to work on rectifying your flaws when you won't even admit that they exist. So if I love my country, it is not unconditional love, which is the only kind that a lot of people will accept.

Etymologically speaking, "patriot" derives from the Greek patrios, meaning "of one's father." In this sense, I am as true a patriot as anyone out there. America's history and current behavior may disgust and infuriate me on a regular basis, but I am inescapably of this country, in the same way that I am inescapably of my family. I'm American in the same sense that I'm male, blond and have green eyes. It's a deep-seated part of my identity; my speech, thought, carriage, tastes, opinions and attitudes are all inflected by my nationality. I can't really imagine living in a different country in the long term.

So whether or not I think my country worth celebrating, it looks like I'm stuck with it.